


someone that you once called home

by calstic



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cheesy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love at First Sight, M/M, Not Beta Read, Songfic, kind of, kinda like that but a little different, you know that trope of hooking up at a bar and then falling in love?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28217280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calstic/pseuds/calstic
Summary: Tony and Steve meet in a bar. They fall in love. It takes some time for them to get where they want to be.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 47





	someone that you once called home

**Author's Note:**

> based on _crazier things_ by chelsea cutler ft. noah kahan. no need for named dedication because you know exactly who you are uwu. thank you for suggesting the song ❤

They meet in a bar. It's a Friday night and Tony is already so drunk that he's not able to remain in his stool properly. He's slipped from his upright position more than four times, unable to hold himself up with the amount that he's had. He doesn't notice the leering eyes that see his lack of control. He doesn't notice the other eyes that recognise that this is Tony Stark.

What he does notice, though, is the warm body that's sitting next to him almost the entire night. The blond has a tendency to stare at people that try to get to close to Tony, and he doesn't really know why. Thinks that the blond has laid some weird and creepy claim on him from afar—or by proximity, considering they've been next to each other most of the night—but he hasn't made a move.

"What—what do you want?" Tony slurs, points a finger at the stranger and swears as the amber liquid sloshes out of the glass he's holding. He's probably two drinks away from alcohol poisoning, but the bartender recognised Tony Stark as soon as he walked into the bar, so Tony keeps drinking every time he's served.

"I'm just enjoying my night out," the blond says.

"You've been at the counter all day."

"Same as you."

"You've had that bottle the entire time."

The blond tilts his head, acquiescing. "You're observant."

"I'm drunk, not stupid."

The man chuckles, the corner of his lips turning upwards pleasantly. "I wasn't assuming otherwise."

"You were implying it, though. I'm—" Tony taps at his temple "—I have good brains."

The blond looks amused, elbow propped on the counter. "I don't doubt it."

Tony pouts, furrows between his eyes. "You're teasing me."

"Maybe." His finger presses against his top lip, the rest of his hand curled over his chin, thumb tucked under.

Tony leans closer, almost losing his balance but the blond steadies him with a hand around his arm.

"Careful," he says.

"Thanks." Tony doesn't move back to his seat, and the man doesn't push him away. "You're pretty," Tony tells him after looking between those blue eyes multiple times. "I'm Tony."

The blond flushes, clearing his throat. "I'm Steve."

Tony hums, raises a hand to pat Steve's face. "Pretty Steve."

"You're really drunk."

"Yeah."

Steve's eyes travel over Tony's shoulder, jaw jumping as blue eyes sweep the rest of the bar. "You should get home."

"I have a—Happy."

"A what?" Steve's confused face makes him looks adorable. Then his face gets red again.

"Oh, that was my out loud voice."

"It was, yeah. What's a happy?"

"My ride."

"Is that a new ride-sharing app?"

Tony laughs. He almost falls from the stool again, but steadies himself with a hand out, grabbing Steve's thigh. Steve's pants are snug around the thick of his thighs. "My chauffeur."

"You should call them. Happy."

Tony pushes against Steve's thigh to upright himself, taking his phone from his pocket to text Happy. He waits until he gets a reply to put away the device. "He'll be here."

"I'll walk you out."

Bringing his gaze up, Tony studies Steve like he can dissect his intentions from sight alone. "Fine," he relents, but he has a feeling Steve would have been there, lending his presence regardless of Tony's answer.

Steve waits for Tony to get up, following him out and standing next to him until Happy's car pulls up the curb.

The driver's door opens, a man in a suit getting out.

"Stay safe, Tony," Steve says.

Tony hums, pats Steve's face again before he lets Happy guide him into the passenger seat.

.:::.

The second time they meet, Tony's sober. He feels this should count as their first meeting, but it's the second time he comes across Steve. He remembers—Tony has trouble finding the line between drinking enough to forget and ending up in the hospital. He's never been able to forget what he wants when drinking.

Tony's at the bar again, seated in the same stool he was last Friday night, hoping. He remembers Steve. Remembers the man that found a drunk Tony Stark and did—nothing. Nothing except make sure he got home. Happy made sure to check Tony's belongings twice over, and nothing was missing.

"Fancy seeing you here again."

Tony raises his glass in Steve's direction, pretending like he's not full of nervous energy. Or that he had been waiting with baited breath, a child with a crush. "And yet, here we are."

"I'm here every Friday," Steve says. The bartender leaves a bottle of beer, familiar with Steve's face and order.

"Just a night out?"

Steve smiles. "Something like that, yeah. What about you?"

"I was hoping to catch you."

He raises an eyebrow. "What for?"

Tony shrugs. "Hang around and find out."

.:::.

Tony shows up at the bar drunk again.

Steve, despite the fact that he frequents the bar every week, dislikes intoxication. He hates it on himself, remembers how it stained his father and turned an absent man into someone that hurt his mother. Steve knows Tony turns his violence inwards but it doesn't alleviate the fact that he still hates it.

"What's wrong?" Steve asks. It's an immediate question when he sees Tony lounging around their corner of the bar. They had relocated from the counter to a corner of the bar, with tables and chairs.

"What makes you think something is wrong?" Tony asks—slurs.

Steve doesn't like the smell of alcohol on his breath. It reminds him of the first time they met, and he instinctively looks around the bar like his glare alone can scare off anyone with ill intentions. "You're drunk," he says.

"This is a bar."

"You weren't drunk before." The previous three times Tony had shown up at the bar, he'd been sober. They talked for hours together, spending the night nursing non-alcoholic drinks and feeding on plates of bar food. It wasn't romantic—no, romance would have been a candlelit dinner at a restaurant—but it was them.

Tony sighs. "I wanted to tell you something." Tony's voice is so small. Uncertain.

"What is it?" Steve settles, reaching across the table to rest his hand on Tony's.

"I think... I think I love you."

There's silence.

"Shit, okay, maybe not. That's weird, isn't it? We don't really know each other, but you're so—nice to me? Without any reason and I just—you probably don't want to hear it but I think I love you."

It's the _nice_ part that gets to Steve, because Steve had did his best to treat Tony like a human being. He'd done his best to be decent, to be kind, and it's a testament to the people that surround Tony that kindness is what makes Tony fall in love with him. "Tony."

"I'm sorry."

"Tony." He squeezes Tony's hand and retracts it. "Tony, you're drunk."

"I'm—I mean it, though."

"You don't."

"I know how I feel."

"You're drunk, Tony."

"But I—"

"Tony," Steve interrupts, not unkindly. "I don't feel the same way."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Steve wants to argue, wants to ask why Tony accepts that as the truth so easily but he feels he's no longer allowed to demand answers. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's—it's fine. I'll forget this in the morning."

Steve knows it's a lie, but he lets it go. Let Tony go. "I am sorry, Tony."

Tony smiles, and it only makes Steve more worried, because even though Tony is drunk, he's still able to hold that facade—that mask. He wonders how ingrained this acting is for Tony. "Well," Tony says, "I'll leave. You can stay. This was always your place." Tony fishes his phone from his pocket and texts Happy.

"I'll wait with you."

Looking up, Tony appears like he's going to argue, but sees something on Steve's face that makes him sigh in defeat. "Yeah, okay."

Steve follows Tony out, and they stand in silence. It's not quite like their first meeting, almost there, but not.

When Happy's car arrives, Tony climbs in without a second glance.

.:::.

Tony calls.

The first time Tony had called, Steve picked up.

"If I—if I never told you, would I still have you now?" Tony asks.

Silence. "You're drunk again."

"I just want to know. Please."

Steve hangs up. And every time Tony calls him after, Tony gets his voicemail.

.:::.

Tony moves out to Malibu. It's plastered all over tabloids like it's pertinent information—Stark heir leaves New York City, has the Stark given up on Stark Industries? Steve rolls his eyes every time he sees the articles. It's not the mention of Tony that causes it—no, there's a twist to his heart every time he sees Tony's face, that press smile—it's the public's need to know every decision Tony makes.

If there's one thing he doesn't miss from being with Tony, it's how careful they had to be, how everything felt like walking on eggshells and one demarcation meant the public clamouring in their faces. But Steve misses everything else about being with Tony.

He sees pictures of Tony and Tiberius make their way around for months. Bile grows in his throat, because Tony deserves better. Steve is better, but he can't do anything about it because he's the one that let Tony go. Let him go, and sent him running to Tiberius. Steve can't do anything about it—goes on runs, attacks punching bags in the gym to release pent up energy.

It goes on for months, and then they break up, despite their getting together being quiet.

And then Tony goes missing.

For three months.

Steve had thought he knew what it was like to miss Tony. Tony's loud, takes up space and managed to burrow himself into Steve's heart, into his lungs, under his skin. And never left, even if Tony did go because Steve let him go.

But this.

This feels like something tearing flesh and sinew inside, demanding answers—demanding Tony.

He finds Pepper, tries to talk to her but Happy is the one that pushes Steve back into the wall.

"Don't you dare," Happy says, arm laying across Steve's shoulders. "You don't get to be here. You don't get to care."

"Please. Happy, I just need to know."

"We don't know where he is," Pepper says.

Steve looks over Happy's shoulder to her, where Rhodey watches Steve and Happy distantly. Exhaustion is evident in their red eyes, the way Pepper's hands shake. But more than that, there's grief. Grief in the way that Rhodey's jaw clenches, his lips straightened to a line.

Steve nods, leans into the wall and Happy moves his arm, stepping back. He's hit with the realisation that it was Happy that had to drive Tony home after Steve turned him down. That it was probably Happy that had to drive Tony to the bar every time they met up, drove him home and listened to Tony; then drove him to Ty, away from Ty, and then to rehab.

"I'm sorry," Steve says, voice hoarse.

Happy reaches out to Steve's shoulder, squeezing it. "Take care, Rogers." He ushers Pepper and Rhodey away.

.:::.

One night Tony is still missing.

And one morning, Tony Stark is back. Alive.

Steve pours over articles, feels tears collect in his eyes and realises he doesn't know what to do.

"You already know what you want to do," Sam says when Steve calls him. "You just want someone else to say it for you."

"What if he's moved on? Or just—doesn't need me?"

"Then it is what it is, man. You can learn to heal after, but there won't be an after if you never try."

It's real, too real, of an answer, but Steve knows that this is the least he owes Tony. Because Tony had given Steve his heart and Steve still regrets turning it away, saying no. All he does is miss Tony.

He stares down at the number on his phone, prays that it's still the same one and sends a text.

.:::.

Every night since the text was delivered, Steve is there at the bar. He waits. And waits. He knows he should impose some kind of limit, should tell him to stop after a week, after two weeks maybe, but he doesn't.

Friday night rolls around and Tony Stark walks into the bar.

Steve's breath catches his in throat.

Tony has sunglasses on, head swivelling as he searches and Steve knows the moment Tony sees him because he tenses, freezes, really. And Steve swears he can feel the weight of Tony's gaze despite the sunglasses. Tony strides to their table, sits on the other side.

"Tony," Steve breathes.

Tony removes his sunglasses, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket. "Steve."

God, Steve almost feels like crying. Relief, hope, fear; everything swelling like a tidal wave because _Tony._ Tony, Tony, Tony—right here in front of him, close enough to touch. Steve could reach out, take his hand, but he doesn't. "I didn't think you'd come."

Tony shrugs. "Was debating it."

"I—I heard about what happened. I was—" Steve swallows. "I didn't know what happened to you. I thought you were gone."

"Well, I'm here." Tony's voice is softer now, a little kinder than the distant one he'd been using. "I'm here. I'm okay."

"Tony, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It had nothing to do with you."

"No, not for that. I meant... the last time we spoke—"

Tony sucks in a breath, visibly retreats in the way he draws his hands away from the table.

"Tony, please, I mean it. I'm sorry. I lied. I lied."

"What?"

Steve holds Tony's gaze, forces himself to speak. "When you told me you loved me, I lied when I said I didn't feel the same way about you."

Once again, Steve feels amazed and pained that Tony has mastered the art of composing his face. There's nothing there—a blank slate that gives nothing away of how he's feeling.

Heart thudding loudly, blood rushing in his ears, Steve swallows adrenaline. "Tony." Begging for a response.

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. Mutters something that Steve doesn't hear over the roar in his ears. Tony stands, leaves the bar.

Steve remembers letting Tony go.

He scrambles up, chases after Tony.

Tony's walking to Happy's car.

Steve doesn't realise he's grabbed onto Tony's arm until they're both stopped. "Tony, please."

Shaking his limb free, Tony opens the car door, stepping aside. He looks at Steve, then tilts his head to the opened back seat.

Without further prompting, Steve gets in the car. He slides to the other side, meets Happy's watching gaze through the rear-view mirror. He nods, and Happy's eyes moves away.

Tony gets in after him, leaving the space between them.

Steve takes Tony's cue and the ride is silent. They get the Stark Tower. Steve noticed, of course he noticed, that Tony hadn't been back to Malibu since he came back from those three months. It's silent when they exit the car, when they walk inside the building, when they take the elevator to the top floor.

Tony pours himself a drink, breaks the silence by asking Steve if he wants one.

"No," Steve answers. "No, it's fine."

Shrugging, Tony puts the glass down. He walks to the glass windows, overlooking the city; Steve thinks of a king and an empire. "Why?" Tony asks.

"What?"

"You lied. Why?"

Steve hesitates. "I..." He ruined the first time by lying. But what was the truth here? He was scared? "You said I was being nice."

"Did I?"

What does it say, that Steve remembers every detail of Tony's confession? "You said I was nice to you, and you loved me. It made me think that you didn't know what you wanted, that no one's ever just been nice to you before."

"So that meant my feelings weren't valid."

"That you were making a mistake with me. That I could be wrong for you—that I could hurt you and you would let me because I was _nice_."

Tony chuckles, sound wistful. "You hurt me anyway, Steve."

"I did," he admits, even though it stings to have it laid out. But Tony's always been the one to lay himself bare.

"Real noble of you."

Steve steps forward until he's hovering just above Tony's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Tony," he whispers. "I'm sorry. I—I thought I should at least give you some space to find better people, that you would move on but then you went back to Ty and then you were gone and I—" Steve sucks in a breath, moves past that pain, moves past those months where he thought all he would have left of Tony were memories of heartache. "You coming back feels like a second chance. I want—Tony, I never moved on."

Tony's shoulders shudders, but he still doesn't turn around. "You fucked up, Steve."

"I did. I know. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Tony turns around.

Steve holds his gaze. "Tony." When Tony steps closer, Steve reaches for his face, hands cradling. The feeling of skin, of warmth, that reassuring touch of Tony makes everything in him sing.

They stay like that, Tony's eyes closed, leaning into the touch and Steve wonders how he survived so long with this gone. Tony takes Steve's hand against his face, draws it down to his chest.

And flesh meets—metal.

"What?" Steve looks down, confusion marring his face.

"It's broken," Tony says, "but it's yours."

Steve makes a sound like he's been wounded. "God, Tony."

"It's okay." Tony rises up, has a hand behind Steve's neck, pulls him closer. "I never moved on either, Steve. I love you, I always have."

Steve meets him halfway, kissing him. He doesn't know what he feels, only knows that he wants nothing more than Tony. "I love you," Steve says, breathes out in desperation.

He had left that bar, not once uttering the words but here, he says into the space between them.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, i know this fic isn't perfect. i wrote it out of chronological order and had no beta reader because i wanted to get this out. other than that, please leave some comments if you can! keysmashes are better than nothing ❤
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://dec16th.tumblr.com). i'm also [taking commissions](https://forms.gle/R53JeS5AUQ7EwoC76).


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